


Before the War

by orphan_account



Series: Dragons, Killers, Thieves, and Kings. [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Cats, Character Death, Death, Enough Canon Divergence to murder Bethesda, F/M, M/M, Murder, Robbery, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-01 14:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Salashar, wanted for murder (even though he deserved it), is forced to flee her home and escape to Skyrim.And she's alright.She finds love.She finds comradery.But, and she should know better, it all came crashing down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You don't really need to read to first fic, but you can. Feel free to comment.
> 
> Also, I feel a need to share all the Headcanons and Canon divergence at work in this fic, and those in the series with it.
> 
> 1- Larger worlds. Skyrim isn't the size of a city anymore. It's massive. It takes days to travel from anywhere to another place.
> 
> 2- This is an old one, and I don't like it as much anymore, but it was in place when I designed Salashar's story. There are essentially two different types of Dragonborn. The "gifted", who were given a blessing by Akatosh. Like the Septims. They have the gift of prophecy, and tend to have a few more 'draconic' personality traits. They age, and can reproduce. Then there are the "children". They are literally the offspring of Akatosh. They are dragons in the bodies of mortals. They can consume the souls of dragons, and their souls can be consumed. They have the personality of a dragon. Ambitious and power-hungry. But also fiercely protective of their loved ones and self-sacrificing. They never age past physical maturity, and they are sterile. The last dragonborn (Salashar) and Miraak are the only dragonborns of this type. 
> 
> 3- When a dragon or the second type of dragonborn has their soul consumed, the consumer then shares a headspace with them. They can hold silent conversations with those they have consumed.

I let the inn door click shut behind me. A clanging finality.

 

I let out a sigh of relief.

 

_No more running._ I promised myself as I scanned the inn.  _Im done._

 

Many of the occupants were drunk, singing and swaying on struggling feet. The whole place reeked of alcohol, sweat, and mildew.

 

And it was so familiar.

 

The Bee and Barb may as well have been one of the bars in Bravil. Off-duty guards that were far too deep in their cups, shopkeepers sipping a single glass along the walls. A few travelers, some which wisely watched their coinpurses, others that wouldn't find their coin by the end of the night. And, most importantly, a few hooded people that would end up with those adventurer's coin.

 

My eyes drifted over to an unoccupied corner, and an empty table.

 

I strode over, keeping one hand over my coinpurse and the other over my dagger. I hooked a chair's leg on my ankle and dragged it out. With a huff of exhaustion, I sat down.

 

I raised a hand to wave over the argonian man who was selling alcohol.

 

"Welcome to the Bee and Barb, m'lady. If I can interest you in one of our special drinks, let me know."

 

I thought for a moment, the most 'exotic' drink I had before now was a bottle of matze that I had nicked off a traveling merchant. And, to oblivion with it, if one of the first things I did in this damn province was a small adventure, why not?

 

"What do you have?"

 

* * *

 

 

I sipped the flagon of Cliff Racer, and it _burnt._ It burnt in the way that only a strong drink could. I leaned back, hissing between my teeth in pleasure.

 

One of the shady folks sat down beside me, I flicked my tail over my coinpurse.

 

"What do you want?" I snapped.

 

He cleared his throat as I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

 

_Redhead. Upperclass clothing. Nord._

 

"Never done an honest day of work for all that coin you're carrying, ay lass?"

 

I sipped my drink. "Who are you, exactly?"

 

I had worked with other thieves before, and taken jobs. It was a careful dance. Someone could be a potential coworker, or a guard under disguise. Getting thrown into prison would not be fun.

 

"I represent an organization, and we are interested in another set of hands."

 

Oh boy, this sounded like a thief. But an _organization?_ I didn't know how I felt about working with some guild or team.

 

I took a deep swallow.

 

To oblivion with it.

 

"Alright, what do you need?"

 

A grin split his features. "I'll tell you everything at my stand, during the day."

 

I stood up with a shallow nod. "Got i-"

 

"But, I need to know your name" He cut me off.

 

My mind raced. I was wanted for murder. I couldn't tell him my real name. But... That was fine. I had given fake names before. I could just drop this one in Riften and move on. Maybe to Windhelm?

 

"I'm S'Ashanti."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oblivion lock-picking rules because that's how locks work in real life.

I pushed The Bee and Barbs' door open, blinking at the painful sunlight that jabbed at my eyes.

 

I growled and scanned the marketplace. My eyes caught on my newest coworker. Peddling a scam. Not bad, but probably wasn't bringing in many coins either.

 

I leaned against his stand, tail waving casually.

 

"How much for one of your bottles, good sir."

 

I looked him in the eyes, not letting a full smile meet my face. Casual and _fake._ Getting guards suspicious was bad. Real bad.

 

"Just five septims, lass." He leaned in. "Alright, I'll cause a distraction. I need you to steal Madesi's silver ring from his stand, and place it in Brand-Shei's pocket. You still in?"

 

Alright, not too bad. I'd never... Reverse pickpocketed someone. But how bad could it be?

 

"Alright, I'll do it. But stiff my pay or get a guard and you'll regret it." I hissed, slipping away from his stand to lean against a wall.

 

He started to talk a bit louder, drawing the attention of the market square.

 

I dropped down to a near-crawl, tucking myself behind the jewelry stand. I slid a lockpick into the lock, and followed it with a knife. I pulled at the pins gently, clicking one into place. Followed by another. Then one more.

 

I sighed in relief.

 

Then there was the strongbox, which was an easier lock. Just two pins. But I broke one lockpick.

 

I slipped a a hand into the strongbox, feeling for a ring. When my fingertips grasped on something vaguely ring-shaped, I pulled it out.

 

Pure silver, with a few odd carvings.

 

I pressed it into my glove, where it wouldn't be seen.

 

I crept around the edge of the short stonework wall. My fingertips grasped the rough stonework. I swung to the side when I reached Brand-Shei and crouched behind the crate he sat on.

 

I scanned what he wore, opting to place it in his loose coinpurse. I pulled on the knot that held it shut with my dagger, opening it just enough to fit the ring. I slid it in before grabbing an end of the drawstring with my fingertips. Pulling it to shut the coinpurse.

 

I took a few careful steps back, grasping my old Akatosh amulet to let up a feverish prayer of thanks.

 

I leaned up against a nearby wall and lifted my head to face my accomplice. I looked him in the eyes and nodded.

 

He waved everybody away as I padded over.

 

"Good job, lass."

 

He passed me a decently sized pouch of money. I was surprised. The best pay I had in Bravil had been a hundred gold. That I had to split four ways with the three others I was working with.

 

It had taken me years to save up all the coin I had now. Only being able to squirrel away a coin every week or so, if I was lucky. Most of my income went towards food and drink for Karodell and I. And I had spent most of the stash from over the years on medicine, or books so we could learn how to read and write, and do math. 

 

What I had in my hand now would have been enough to feed us for a month straight, and buy paper and a couple vials of potions. I let them click in my hand.

 

"Unless-" He added. I looked up. "You want more?"

 

I hesitated. The pay was _good._... And if I could get in this... Organization. I could have somewhere to fall back on if guards from Bravil came knocking. It couldn't hurt.

 

"I'm in, but mind giving me your name? I gave you mine." I muttered, slipping the pouch away into one of the many hidden pockets I had spent countless hours sewing into my otherwise common leather armor.

 

He smiled again. "I'm Brynjolf, lass."

 

"Ah." I flexed my hands and wrists to work out the soreness from the delicate work of lockpicking. I looked down at my palms. Maybe I could spend that pouch of gold on some gloves? It was so cold here, and my lockpicks but into my skin.

 

"Head down into the Ratway, get into the Ragged Flagon. I'll meet up with you there."

 

"Nice."

 

"I'm sure this will work out well for us, S'Ashanti."

 

I nearly had forgotten that I had given him a fake name, but I just smiled. I guess, if I was sticking around, that name would be mine for at least a little while.

 

S'Ashanti? Not bad.


End file.
